Peruski and Borscht
by Marek The Great
Summary: An ex-KGB defector wants in to the US, and his knowledge of the Soviet version of the CIA would be invaluable. The IMF team must go in and get him out. Set several years before the movie. Please R&R!
1. Your mission, Jim...

**IMF Safe house, Kiev 17 November, 1989 3:47 A.M.**  
  
Ethan opened the door to the large hotel room IMF had secured for the team and entered. He placed his hand in his pocket, checking again for its contents before sitting at the round table in the center of the room.  
All the members he was used to seeing were there, with the exception of Sarah Davies, a new member to their IMF team. Ethan had met Sarah a few days prior to the beginning of their newest mission which he, as usual, knew little about. She had long dark hair and a peculiar smile that wrinkled her nose slightly.  
Of course Ethan was no old hat to the Impossible Mission Force. He had been drafted by the CIA just a year earlier for reasons which they said they could not tell him. So far, he had been told, his performance had been exemplary. Now he would be point man in the upcoming mission for the first time. Ethan was a little nervous, but he had accomplished the first, apparently minor part of the mission without a hitch.  
Did you get it? Jim Phelps, leader of their IMF team, asked. Jim was an older man, but sharp as a tack. Ethan figured that was one of the main reasons he had been the head of a team for so many years. He smiled expectantly at Ethan, the overhead light glinting off his glasses.  
Ethan pulled what appeared at first glance to be a floppy disk out of his pocket. On closer inspection, it became obvious that the rectangular card Ethan held was somewhat thicker than a standard floppy. It was a relatively new storage device, known for its amazing speed and storage space as a zip disk. It held the data of 15 floppies in a slightly grater volume, but it would be years before zip disks came out on the civilian market.  
Easy job, Ethan said, handing the disk to Jim. He quickly pocketed it and turned to the rest of the team. Around the table was arrayed Anna Williams, a woman who seemed to be able to slip in unnoticed almost anywhere, Claire Phelps, Jim's recently wedded wife, Jack Harmon, the mission tech guy, Sarah and Ethan.  
Amazingly, even I don't know much about this mission, Jim began. I haven't seen the tape yet, and I was told simply to get this disk before anything else. Jim patted the disk in his breast pocket. Now we can see the tape.  
Jim lifted a small, gray brief case from the floor and placed it in the center of the table. Anna and Jack, opposite the brief case from Jim, huddled around the table to view their mission outline. Jim pressed a small control on the brief case, causing a video panel to unfold.  
Good morning Mr. Phelps, the video began. A Russian defector named Vladimir Taretchnakov has made his wish to leave Russia known to the United Sates. With the recent collapse of the Berlin Wall, he has decided that Socialism does not work and wishes to come to the United Sates. Taretchnakov was a very high official with the KGB, so of course any and all information he might have would be invaluable to us.  
A small picture of a smiling Russian man was displayed on the screen, with a subtitle beneath his picture spelling his name. The picture faded away, replaced by a video of the falling of the Berlin Wall.  
Taretchnakov was stationed in Moscow and keeping open communications with the CIA. Several days ago, all communications with Taretchnakov were severed, and it is likely that he has been discovered. Your mission, Jim, should you choose to accept it, is to determine the whereabouts of Vladimir Taretchnakov and, should he still be alive, take him back to our safe house in Kiev.  
Information regarding his status in the KGB and his recent activities from their records should be in your possession at this time. Your team is, once again, at your discretion. With luck, you will be able to find and escort Taretchnakov out of the Soviet Union. As always, should any member of your IMF team be captured or killed, knowledge of your activities will be disavowed. This tape will self destruct in five seconds. Good luck.  
The screen faded, its display of a satellite image of a KGB post in Moscow disappearing. Five seconds later there was a small pop in the side of the brief case. Soon smoke came pouring out. Jim removed the smoking tape and threw it into a nearby garbage pail.  
I trust the information on this disk is accurate, Jim said, looking to Ethan while gesturing to his pocket and the disk within.  
Our contact was very open, Ethan replied with a wan smile. After I was done with him anyway. The disk checks out.  
Are we in? Sarah asked the group collectively. Each team member nodded the affirmative.  
Let's go, Jim said simply.


	2. Of Sawdust and Mortar

**Moscow 17 November, 1989 11:34 P.M.****  
  
**Ethan tried to stir in the tiny, wooden crate and was unable to. Relatively large quantities of sawdust occupied most of the available room in the tiny crate, impeding almost all motion Ethan attempted. He tried not to sneeze as he sat, motionless in the crate.  
The crate was suddenly jostled and lifted. Several voices spoke unclear Russian in the distance, and Ethan's abilities in Russian were not sufficient to understand what they meant. He certainly hoped that he wouldn't have to do much, if any, talking during this mission, but Jim assured him that he would not have to talk to anyone. Ethan knew still that even one guard asking him a question might be enough to blow what cover he may be able to secure.  
The crate was dropped unceremoniously onto what Ethan figured to be a metal landing of some kind. He noticed after a few minutes that the gentle sway he had been accustomed to for the last half hour had ceased; he was no longer on a ship. He listened carefully for distant voices or the scuffle from the shoes of a worker.  
I'm in, Ethan said at last over the miniature radio affixed to his head.  
Jim said quickly, not wanting to use the radio any more than Ethan. Jim's voice filtered over the small speaker in Ethan's left ear.  
Rolling to first landing, Ethan said. He lifted the lid off the crate, designed to come off easily when pushed from within but appear secure from without, and rose slowly up. He stifled a sneeze from the stirred sawdust and silently left the crate.  
Two Russians were sitting toward a large and open door. They were conversing, a little angrily, about something, but appeared to be oblivious to Ethan's presence. Beyond them, a small canal had been carved out of the ground. A boat was just leaving the large door. Ethan recognized it immediately as the one he had been planted on an hour earlier.  
Ethan turned from the loading dock area and looked for an exit that would lead deeper into the base. He had been thoroughly briefed and even had a map of the station, inasmuch as IMF knew it, loaded on his field scanner.  
The base was a small information node, as the Soviets called it. It had a giant computer terminal that stored coded information about the KGB's operatives and also served as a KGB safe house for its agents in eastern Europe. Jim had hoped that breaking into via the back door would allow enough access time for Ethan to download the computer's database.  
Ethan approached the far door of the loading dock. He tried the handle and was amazed to discover the door was unlocked. Ethan opened the door slowly, careful to avoid any creaking, and slipped past.  
The narrow corridor beyond was very dimly lit so Ethan walked slowly. The walls were made of poorly mortared brick with a gaping hole here and there revealing rodent-bitten electrical wiring. The cement floor was wet, with small amounts of water pooling here and there. A single light bulb dangled from the ceiling, barely illuminating the corridor.  
Ethan said quietly. A small metal box was affixed on the far wall next to a less than adequately attached door. Ethan ran to it and opened the box, revealing a digit pad behind. Ethan took a deep breath, looked on his left hand and punched a series of numbers into the pad. He braced for an alarm to go off, but the door unlocked instead.  
I have access, Ethan said into the radio.  
Proceed with caution, Jim instructed. Don't shoot unless you have to. Zero body count if possible.  
Ethan said, involuntarily reaching for the silenced automatic pistol he had hidden in his overcoat. Hunt out.  
Ethan grabbed the chipped brass doorknob and turned it slowly. The door seemed to swing open by itself, and Ethan nearly fired off his pistol, but no guard jumped out at him. He holstered his firearm and stepped slowly into the darkness.


	3. A Bridge Over Scalding Waters

The doorway led into a large but abandoned room. Old electronic equipment was strewn about the chamber in a seemingly random fashion, and Ethan thought the room might have been searched. Taking care to close the door behind him, Ethan ventured farther into the room.  
Ethan pulled out a small pocket flashlight and turned it on, illuminating the room for a few feet in front of him. There seemed to be no one about, but then Ethan had come in through the back way. Maybe this is a storage area, Ethan mused.  
After a few minutes searching, Ethan had found nothing of great import, but he had discovered another door. According to his scanner, the passage behind the door led deeper into the base, toward the super computer.  
Ethan cautiously tried the door and found it to be unlocked. He turned off and pocketed his flashlight before venturing past the door and into a slightly less forbidding corridor than the brick one he had been in earlier. It seemed to be lined with sheet metal, giving it a sterile feeling, but it was significantly more illuminated than wither the first corridor or the storage room. No guards were in sight, but Ethan gripped his pistol anyway.  
Closing on the computer, Ethan whispered.  
Jim asked.  
A minute perhaps, Ethan replied. Be ready.  
Jim replied. Phelps out.  
Suddenly Ethan came to a window in the sheet metal corridor. It was rather large and looked out into a huge atrium filled with steaming water. In the center of the pool was a large metal island with a bank of computers on it. Two KGB stood, absently guarding the computer. A single, narrow bridge led onto the island, and the guards had their attention turned to it. The entrance was apparently one level lower as the narrow bridge disappeared out of sight below Ethan.  
Ethan checked the map on his field scanner and quickly located a spiral staircase that led down. He found it in seconds and started down, pausing at first sight of a guard at the base. Ethan hadn't been discovered, but he would if he continued down. After glancing to check if the guards in the atrium could see into the stairwell, Ethan jumped down onto the guard, gagging him immediately. The guard tried to fight back, but Ethan rendered him unconscious almost instantly by depressing his upper vertebrae.  
I am at the computer, Ethan said, breathing a little heavily. Two armed guards stand watch. Please advise.  
Get the data by any means necessary, Jim said calmly. If you can't avoid casualties, then don't avoid them. Jim out.  
Ethan again thanked Jim's cool reasoning ability when outside the field of action. He wanted to see how Jim might reason while in action, but that would likely come another day.  
Ethan crept to the open doorway that led to the atrium. He drew the silenced pistol and leaned into the doorway, one guard was diverted from the doorway at the moment, apparently tying his shoes, so Ethan chose the second, more alert guard. He crumpled to the ground after one shot, and before the occupied guard could react, he joined his fallen comrade.  
Ethan ran across the bridge, pulling out a disk as he went. There were several drives, so Ethan chose one and rapidly searched for any information regarding the Operative Vladimir Taretchnakov. Luckily, the KGB had decided not to list their operatives only in code on their mainframe computer, and although the written Russian was a little much for Ethan he was able to quickly find what he needed and downloaded it onto the zip disk he had brought.  
What is it with me and hacking computers? Ethan asked himself as he waited for the download to finish. I certainly hope I don't do this too much.  
As soon as the transfer was complete, Ethan yanked out the zip disk, immediately triggering an alarm. Ethan cursed his confidence and ran toward the entrance. The steam from the water pool, quite obviously the cooling bath for the computer mainframe, scalded him a little as he ran by.  
I have the disk, but it sounded an alarm, Ethan explained on leaving the atrium. Are you ready?  
All set here, Jim said. Hurry, Ethan.  
Ethan drew his pistol once again, ready to fire if a guard were to appear. He made it back to the storage room without seeing a single agent and was soon to the brick corridor.  
Rolling to the landing site, fifteen seconds, Ethan said on entering the off load dock. Suddenly his luck had run out; a solitary guard stood with his 9mm aimed at Ethan's head. Ethan slowly raised his hands and dropped his own pistol. The guard said what Ethan translated as Who are you?'.  
Do you speak English? Ethan asked, not wishing to botch a translation.  
Of course I do, the guard replied with a heavy accent. And you are under arrest, you American Pig.


	4. The Cement River

Hey there, Ethan said calmly, I resent that.  
How do you say difficult fortune?' the guard asked with a smile.  
Do you mean tough luck? Ethan asked.  
I believe so, the guard replied. In any event, I—  
Ethan dove to the floor on hearing several gunshots in close succession and observed the other guard do the same. After several seconds of silence, Ethan slid over to the guard and discovered that he had been shot and killed.  
Hurry up, would you Ethan? Jim urged, this time not over the radio. Ethan looked toward the source of the voice and saw Jim standing with an uzi submachine gun. Ethan shot him a strange look.  
The radio piece you have is triggered by your speech, Jim reminded, helping Ethan to his feet. I heard you were in trouble. Quickly now, the guards had to have heard us.  
Ethan and Jim ran to the large opening of the loading dock, encountering no opposition. Ethan noticed the two Russian dock workers were dead.  
So much for zero body count, Ethan muttered as he and Jim climbed into an idling speed boat at the dock.  
Jim agreed, gunning the boat before pulling away from the dock. Anna is waiting in the car. Do you have the disk?  
Right here, Ethan said, patting his coat.  
Jim said, steering the boat down the canal. The cement walls rose suddenly around them, making the canal feel like a narrow canyon carved out by a river. Suddenly Ethan became aware of another engine's droning. He looked quickly behind them and noticed another boat closing behind them.  
Jim, we have company, Ethan informed.  
I see it, Jim replied, beginning to weave the boat around as much as possible in the narrow canal. Take these.  
Jim handed Ethan a pair of night vision goggles, which he quickly put on. Amazed once again that the IMF team had exactly the right equipment at the right time, Ethan pulled out the pistol he had picked up from the ground before leaving the fallen guard in the loading dock.  
The boat behind them carried two people: a driver and a gunman. The second appeared to have a sniper rifle mounted to the prow of the boat. Ethan quickly took aim and fired. The bullet ricocheted off the boat, and the sniper returned the favor.  
I felt that one whiz past my ear Ethan, Jim informed.  
So sorry, Ethan said, firing again. Wanna switch?  
You do your job, Jim said, turning around to smile for half a second, and I will do mine. Another bullet whizzed past from the sniper. Do make it quick though. We are almost to the transport.  
Ethan said, firing again.  
The fire fight continued for a few minutes without either side causing damage to the other. The canal seemed unchanging as they went along with the exception of slight discolorations here and there. The night sky above, or what was visible through the narrow canal walls, was clear and star filled despite the lights of Kiev.  
Suddenly the rigidly straight canal began to bend to the right. The turn was rather sharp, and Jim had a little difficulty negotiating the curving water corridor. The high, narrow walls made the dangerous turn that much more deadly, but luckily the pursuing boat was having as much difficulty.  
Ethan aimed carefully and fired, hitting the tiny windshield at last. He missed the driver, but now Ethan knew where he was. A second shot hit the driver dead on and less than a second later the boat swerved into the canal wall. Ethan shielded his eyes from the explosive blaze as they rapidly moved away from the accident site.  
We are almost there, Jim said as the high canal walls fell away at last. A small hill curved up and away from the widening canal to the left and Kiev stretched away in the distance to the right. Ethan spotted a black, unexceptional car parked on a small glade on the right of the canal.  
Jim parked the boat at small dock by the waiting car and Ethan and him hurried out. They got in the car wordlessly and drove away from the canal. Only after they were well mixed in with the late-night traffic of downtown Kiev did Ethan feel safe at last.  
I assume you got it, Anna asked, looking back with a serene expression.  
Yeah, I got it, Ethan assured. It was a little tough, but it is right here.  
Jim agreed. Now for the hard part.


	5. Peruski and Borscht

**KGB HQ, Moscow 26 November, 1989 6:56 P.M.****  
  
**Ethan walked into the building with slight trepidation. His mask chaffed and he could barely see anything through it, especially at night. Of course that was the price to pay to get into a branch of the KGB operational headquarters. He was masquerading as someone named Goldystien, apparently a high-ranking official within the KGB. The only way to get in, Jim had said, for they knew the real Goldystien was on unannounced holiday.  
Ethan thanked again the IMF contacts in east Europe as he passed through the threshold and into the elaborately decorated lobby of the HQ. A large, white crystal chandelier was suspended from the vaulted ceiling of the reception area. The ceiling itself was painted with a large mural but Ethan did not know what it depicted.  
This way, instructed one of the guards at the reception in Russian. Ethan had had some time to brush up on his Russian before this mission and was glad now that he had taken the time. They quickly passed through the security checks, Ethan flashing his bogus ID to the guards.  
Ethan nodded politely when he had finished passing through the security post, trying to smile as convincingly as possible even with the mask on. It was then he noticed the guard was actually one of the IMF team, Anna Williams, instructing him where to go. His smile abruptly faded, replaced by a look of relief, that Anna was here. There was some uncertainty as to the guard rotation, Jack Harmon had told them, and if Anna was not at the function, there could have been major difficulty with the mission.  
Hello, Mr. Goldystein, Anna said warmly in perfect Russian. She slipped a small device into his pocket very subtly, just as planned, and Ethan pretended not to know. They continued on, down a narrow corridor with extremely subdued lighting, before turning into a large and, by contrast, brightly lit dining hall. A large, pearlescent table dominated the room, which the company hastily took seats about.  
I believe you all know me, one of the Russian officials began. He appeared to be the head of the meeting of KGB here, but Ethan did not know him. This is Agent Golydstien of course, and here are Agents Putin, Grandekov and Iseti. The man continued on, introducing the ten or twenty people around the massive table, but Ethan paid no mind.  
Well, now that that is done with, the official said a moment later after running all the way around the table, we will have a light dinner before we get down to business. He clapped his hands twice, summoning several caterers. Each carried a silver platter with a soup bowl of borscht and some peruski arrayed around it. Each person at the table got their own platter, which some hastily started on, while others politely waited for all to be served.  
Ethan had tried borscht before and decided he didn't like it, but now seemed a bad time to make his aversion to the reddish delicacy known. He cautiously picked up his spoon and sipped his borscht, following suit with the others in the room. A light discussion began which Ethan carefully followed but added nothing to.  
After several minutes, most of the agents around the table finished their soup and bread' as Ethan thought of their food. The caterers removed the platters as each person finished them and hastily made an exit from the room.  
Now, before we digress too much, the head guy began, let us begin about the real reason we are here. We are certainly all aware of the growing dissent within the Soviet Union and even within our own KGB  
Ethan decided now was a good a time as any to not follow the discussion as it likely had no importance to him. He perked up slightly when the lights dimmed and a slide presentation began, displaying mug shots and information about several Russian defectors. Even Vladimir Taretchnakov flashed onto the screen after a minute or so, which reminded Ethan of the mission at hand.  
According to the info gleaned at Kiev, Taretchnakov was being held in this building, hence the carefully planned infiltration. Now was as good a time as any to start the rescue, Ethan mused. The darkened room was full of a great many people, and Ethan doubted they would miss one for a long time.  
He took the field scanner Anna had given him out of his pocket and subtly made for the door. Time to rescue a defector.


	6. Hacker Harmon Saves The Day

Ethan stealthily ran down the first corridor he found that seemed to be heading toward a red blip on his scanner and ducked into the first empty room he found, closing the heavy oak door behind him.  
Hunt to Phelps, Jim, come in, Ethan said quietly, holding the filed scanner that doubled as a radio transciever close to his mouth. Ah, the wonders of technology.  
Jim here, reading you loud and clear, came the familiar voice of their IMF team's fearless leader. I assume you have broken with the pack?  
That is a big affirmative, Ethan replied. You are sure this frequency is secure?  
Yes I am, came the voice of Jack Harmon, the team's computer expert. I am transmitting a nominal scrambler signal, so you can rest assured none of these pinkos will be listening in.  
Thanks Jack, Ethan replied. Where did they put you up this time? Elevator shaft? Bathroom stall?  
Hacking away in a supply closet on the roof, for your information, Jack replied, sounding sarcastically offended. I have located my friend and your's location, tagged him with 700 nanometers.  
I see the red blip, Ethan said, luckily understanding what Hacker Harmon' was saying. That is our man Taretchnakov?  
Yes sir, Jack said hastily. I hope you enjoy my choice for tagging color, for as they say around here, better red than dead.  
Let's hope Vladimir winds up as neither, Jim cut in, anxious to get on with the mission. Jack, have you got a map yet?  
Working on it, Jack replied. Oh, and by the way Ethan, Anna lost' a silenced nine millimeter that was blessedly tagged, as well as a janitor suit she was somehow in possession of. Putting them through to you now.  
A white blip appeared close to the red one on Ethan's field scanner indicating the relative location of Anna's abandoned weapon and clothing.   
She figured they might come in handy for ya Ethan, Jack continued. I have the entrance to the cellblock now, but it will take some work to get there. You will want to head toward the blue dot on your scanner. Harmon out.  
Ethan checked his scanner, orienting himself properly, before setting out for the white dot. It inched closer as he approached it down the surprisingly straight corridors. Within a few moments, Ethan reached a small service closet. The white dot was practically in the center of his round, radar-screen like scanner, meaning he was less than a meter from the tagged object. Ethan checked to see that no one was in the corridor and flung the door open.  
Among cleaning chemicals and mop pails was a blue janitorial smock, and beneath its crumpled form rested a small black pistol. Ethan closed the door behind him, standing now in the relatively large supply closet, and pulled the blue jumpsuit over his black tuxedo for the meeting. Several white, Cyrillic letters were imprinted on the front of the cheap clothing article, one of which was awkwardly cut in half by the black zipper running up along the front.  
Okay guys, I am in the lovely blue number Anna left for me, Ethan said. Got me a map yet?  
Sorry Ethan, Jack said after a few seconds' silence. You are gonna have to find your own way. I've got you two landmarks though. Have fun, and don't get lost.  
Will do there Jack, Ethan replied in his best Canadian accent. Thanks for the help, but try and find a map, eh?  
Sure Ethan, Jack said warmly. Harmon out... again.  
Ethan opened the door again, tacking the silenced pistol into his jumpsuit as discreetly as possible. Deciding at last that there was no discreet way about it, Ethan decided to keep the gun in a wheeled mop pail. Luckily there was no water in the pail, so it wouldn't get wet.  
Ethan said as he left the closet. He quickly pulled the mask of Goldystein off his face and threw it in with his 9mm.  
Checking his scanner every few meters as he walked, the janitor Ethan made his way slowly toward the blue dot that was the entrance to the holding place of Taretchnakov. He bowed his head in typical, lowly-janitor style whenever someone walked by. The last thing he needed now was for someone to notice his distinctly American characteristics in the KGB stronghold.  
The corridors were lined with a dark oak, and the floors were all carpeted with the same boring beige color. Coupled with the subdued lighting, the building had a forbidding feel. Ethan never doubted he was in the Russian Little Shop of Horrors and he would be glad when he was done with this mission.  
At last Ethan turned a corridor that led directly to the detention wing of the building. The blue dot grew steadily closer until it was in the center of Ethan's scanner. Sure enough, a large metal door stood before him, which appeared to require a card key for access.  
Hey, Jack, it appears that my disguise is somewhat incomplete. I am at your much alluded entrance, but I need a card key to get in.  
Two steps ahead of you Ethan, came Jack's reply, much to Ethan's relief. I am gonna force open the door in a few seconds here. I would guess it is not uncommon to have janitors going into even the detention wing. After all, floors in the slammer are no cleaner than anywhere else. But just to be sure, better have your weapon of choice ready.  
Weapon of choice? Ethan asked incredulously. I have a mop and a gun.  
Are you any good with a mop? Jack asked, suppressing a chuckle.  
Open door, Ethan demanded, unamused.  
Opening door, Jack replied.  
The metal door made a hissing sound, causing Ethan to tense involuntarily. Within a second, it began to slide open slowly. Ethan didn't know what to expect, but now was his time to shine. The floors anyway.


	7. Escape

The door opened to reveal a polished, white-metal corridor. Gray metal doors lined the sides of the corridors, but no one was visible at the moment.  
I'm in, Ethan whispered. Close door.  
Closing door, Jack replied calmly. The entrance door slid closed again.  
Proceeding to package, Ethan said. According to his scanner, Taretchnakov, the red dot on his scanner, was no more than 50 meters away from Ethan's current location. This close, however, and there would be many guards. Ethan picked up his pistol and abandoned the mop and wheeled pail.  
Come out, come out, wherever you are, Ethan muttered silently as he slowly walked down the corridor. The red dot grew ever closer, but Ethan had still not arrived at Vladimir's cell.  
And suddenly the corridor ended. The red dot was still at least ten meters away, but there was no door. Ethan didn't know what to do.  
Ethan said, about to ask for the map.  
I see it, Jack said. You passed the door you want. Turn around. It is the third door on your right.  
Thanks Jack, Ethan said. Any chance of me seeing that map?  
Too big to transmit, Jack said. Just listen to me. Have I ever steered you wrong?  
I'm not gonna think about that one, Ethan joked, trying the door Jack had specified. It opened easily, and Ethan stepped in, hiding his gun as well as possible.  
Hey there, a guard said in Russian. What are you doing in here?  
Wrong door? Ethan asked, closing the door behind him. I wonder if you would look at this. Ethan hoped he wasn't butchering the question in the translation, but the guard, still skeptical, came closer.  
You see, Ethan continued, I found this out in the hallway. Ethan pulled out his gun in one swift motion and shot the guard before he could react. Almost immediately an alarm started blaring.  
Security cameras, Ethan muttered. Damn. Jack!  
Find him and get out of there! Jack called over the radio.  
Ethan searched the guard and found a key card on him. He lifted the card and ran around the corner in the small security post. Before him was a corridor with cells on wither side. Ethan ran down the metallic corridor, checking his scanner for the package.  
Here you are, Ethan said, turning to one cell on the left. He swiped the card through a small reader, and the opaque door slid open immediately. Within the dark cell, lounging on a hard bench, was Taretchnakov. He appeared to be asleep as Ethan ran into the cell.  
Just what I need, Ethan muttered, trying to rouse the defector. A sleeping Soviet. Wake up!  
At last, the somewhat heavy, balding man awoke. He muttered a few curses about the alarm before realizing what was happening.  
Why is a janitor in here? he asked no one in particular.  
I am not a janitor, Ethan said in English. I am here to rescue you.  
Taretchnakov asked, now in heavily accented English.  
I am an American, from the CIA, Ethan explained. Let's get going.  
Ethan led Vladimir out of the cell and back to the security post where the fallen Russian guard lay, powerless now to stop the fleeing fugitives. Cautiously stepping back into the main hallway, they soon continued on toward the main entrance to the detention wing. Ethan had his silenced 9mm pistol ready all the while.  
Open door, Ethan instructed Jack, holding the scanner very close to his mouth.  
Opening door, jack replied, a hint of nervousness creeping into his usually serene voice. The front entrance is not an option. Plan beta.  
You are gonna have to lead me then, Ethan replied, stepping through the slowly opening outer door. Taretchnakov followed dumbly after.  
What ees plan beta? he asked, now running down the carpeted corridor of the main part of the KGB HQ.  
Our contingency escape plan, Ethan said. We figured that the main entrance would be blocked if an alarm went off.  
So what ees plan beta? he asked again.  
Fire escape from the roof, Ethan explained, turning the corridor. Two guards were off in the distance, but two carefully aimed shots left the hallway clear.  
Thees ees dangerous! Taretchnakov said with sudden realization.  
Not so loud, Vladimir, Ethan said. Where to, Hacker Jack?  
Right at the next junction, he explained, play-by-play. Now a left keep straight watch out! Guards there. Now take a left, and there is an elevator. Take it to the seventh floor.  
Ethan and Vladimir stepped into the waiting elevator, which was blessedly empty, and pressed the appropriate button.  
What ees your name? Vladimir asked, catching his breath.  
Ethan replied. Ethan Hunt. We are getting you outta here.  
I gathered that, Taretchnakov replied as the door opened to the seventh floor. The two ran out of the elevator, as Jack immediately began again to give instruction. Soon they had reached a service ladder in a closet that went onto the roof. Within a minute, both Ethan and Vladimir were on the curiously spongy roof. The night air was crisp and cold, a relief from the air inside the building which Ethan now realized had been rather stuffy.  
Ethan ran to a guard hut or room of some kind on the roof. A satellite dish was mounted on top of it. Within, Jack sat with his laptop hooked up by several wires to the control for the dish. He was rapidly pulling wires from the wall and wrapping them. The alarm, although muffled, could still be heard.  
Let's go, Ethan said when Jack was finished. The three walked out of the room, jack narrowly missing a whizzing bullet. They dove back behind the cover of the satellite room.  
So close, Jack said. Ethan leaned around the cover to fire a shot, then pulled back.  
And yet so far, he commented.


	8. Flight From Moscow

The fire fight continued on for several minutes. At one point, Ethan thought he had shot one of their shadowy opponents, but it seemed a few minutes later that, if he had, another gunman had taken his fallen comrade's place.  
Jim, we are caught on the roof, Ethan decided to say over the radio. We are pinned by at least one gunman. Please advise.  
I will tell Anna, Jim said. She may be able to help.  
Thanks Jim, Ethan said.  
The fire fight continued, bullets flying somewhat less rapidly now, for several minutes. Ethan had grown accustomed to the sound made by the sporadic flight of a group of uzi bullets. And suddenly, a different firing sound rang out on the roof. Ethan couldn't quite tell what kind it was. Another shot, and then silence.  
Ethan asked, trying not to get too hopeful.  
Right here, Anna replied, finding Ethan quickly. Now let's go.  
Ethan, Jack and Taretchnakov rose from behind the satellite room, then ran with Anna toward their escape route. After quickly finding the fire escape ladder, all four agents climbed onto it. Although they tried to be as silent as possible, the cast iron ladder rattled as they descended upon it.  
To make matters worse, the alarm seemed to have been turned off. The faint vibration, both in the metal of the ladder and in the air, created by the alarm seemed to suddenly stop when the foursome reached the third floor. Now every sound they made seemed to pierce loudly through the night as if to say, Here we are guys.' Ethan was very worried that they might be caught yet, but he did not let it show.  
At last they reached the end of the ladder, which happened to be a few feet off the ground. After jumping very carefully, the group was grounded. They had descended, just as planned, into a narrow and bleak alley between the KGB HQ and what appeared to be a cheap Russian diner.  
This way, Ethan instructed, as he had been most fully briefed on their escape route. Jim, we are on the ground, rolling to transport. Be ready.  
Copy Ethan, Jim's voice crackled over the now not secured channel.  
They ran down the length of the alley, coming back out on the rear of the building. A small delivery truck was parked at what appeared to be a shipment off load door. It reminded Ethan of the KGB information node's bleak off load area in Kiev. They continued on.  
It was once they had passed the truck and were running along the side of a street that led into Red Square that they heard the first gun shot. Anna quickly turned and shot, hitting one of the three pursuing guards. The four dove behind the cover of a compact car parked on the side of the road.  
Not again, Vladimir muttered, who was powerless to do anything but sit and wait.  
How close are we to the transport? Anna asked after firing a few times.  
It is in Red Square, Ethan said, gesturing vaguely down the road.  
Nice plan, Anna muttered. Did you come up with that one?  
Jim figured they would never think we would go there if they caught me.  
Ethan said, we are pinned again. One block from Red Square. Looks like a street that starts with an N. See if you can find us.  
How many?  
Looks like two, Anna piped in. She fired. Make that one.  
I'll see what I can do, Jim replied.  
They waited, firing shots here and there, but it was hard to see the other gunman. Within about a minute, a black luxury car pulled up. From it came two gun shots, one of which got the unsuspecting gunmen. The four hiding behind the compact ran fro the car and hopped in.  
We have a plane to get back to Kiev, Jim informed from the passenger seat. Claire drove slowly down the street to avoid suspicion.  
Job well done, Ethan, Claire said after leaving downtown Moscow.  
Hey, don't forget Hacker Harmon, Jack said playfully.  
Good job all, Jim said. Now let's just get out of here!  
  
  
**IMF Safe house, Kiev 28 November, 1989 4:47 P.M.****  
  
**All members of Jim's IMF team were gathered around the same table they had been 11 days earlier. Jack, Anna, Claire, Ethan and Jim sat at their accustomed spots, happy that the Taretchnakov mission was finally over.  
I hear from Langley that the information Taretchnakov has given is already being put to use, Jim said. We may be looking at the end of the cold war.  
What does that mean for good old IMF? Ethan asked jokingly. No more Russian espionage missions! All present laughed with a mixture of amusement, relief, and a slight bit of concern for their employment.  
Let's hope it doesn't come to that, what with all the world's problems, Jim said with a smile. I know, for one, that I have a long future in the Impossible Mission Force. Here's to IMF! A quiet cheer went up, saluting both the CIA division they repeatedly risked their lives in to protect America, as well as their knowledge in a job well done.


End file.
